


The Town Mouse & The Country Mouse

by trufield



Series: A (Not-Quite) Home From Home [1]
Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: Fine Dining, First moves, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 20:09:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14776439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trufield/pseuds/trufield
Summary: Harry turns up in the city. Albert finds he could use the distraction but Harry isn't particularly comfortable...Written forsmallfandomfest





	The Town Mouse & The Country Mouse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [laughingpineapple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laughingpineapple/gifts).



Many months after the complete catastrophe that was Twin Peaks, when they ran out of leads and exhausted ideas they could trace, when he was sent on new cases, different cases, and Gordon assured him they were still working on it, that they wouldn't leave Cooper, they were attempting to ‘move on’ (even though Albert flatly refused to do so). Then Sheriff Harry S. Truman turned up. 

Albert noticed him instantly, lingering outside the FBI building, hunched up on himself and looking decidedly uncomfortable. Albert was filled with dread at the sight of him but small sparks of hope tried to ignite. He might have news of Coop. 

“What brings you out here? I thought you were tethered to that town by some ancient curse.”

Harry startled. 

“Albert! I was… hoping to see you.”

“It might help if you called ahead or at least entered the building.”

Harry didn't look like he'd slept all week, dark rings under his eyes, a few days worth of stubble on his jaw. The personification of how Albert had felt most days since they had last seen each other. Albert sighed. No news then. 

“Answer my question Harry.”

“I was in the area.”

“Right,” Albert said, making it clear he wouldn't entertain believing that. Harry was too honest and too obvious to be a convincing liar. Albert didn't need this right now. He ran a hand over his face and made a decision. “You're hungry right? A foolish question. Come on.”

Albert didn't imagine he would get an answer to how long Harry had been waiting. 

When they arrived at the restaurant, Harry followed him silently inside. He'd been like a stray dog shadowing him for the duration of the short journey. He seemed to snap back to reality when the waitress who would take them to a table grimaced at him as she looked him up and down. He hid behind Albert in a way that was probably meant to be discreet. He excused himself as Albert sat down. Albert ordered the wine, and when Harry didn't return promptly, he ordered the food too. 

He was beginning to grow concerned and pushed away from the table to look for him but then Harry approached. He kicked his bag under the table, hung his jacket on the back of the chair and sat down. 

He'd _shaved_. 

Albert could have laughed. He didn't. It only made Harry look worse, accentuating his exhaustion. He had changed his shirt too and buttoned it all the way in an attempt to appear presentable. It was still crisscrossed with creases where it had been stuffed in his bag. Blood was collecting on the collar from where he had cut his neck and apparently not noticed. 

“You're bleeding.” Albert gestured at his own neck. 

Harry lightly touched the indicated area until his fingertips smeared the line. He pulled his hand away and frowned at the redness. He dug around in the pocket of his jacket and produced a handkerchief (navy with a white pattern) and rubbed his neck with it. Albert tutted and took the handkerchief from him before he pocketed it again. 

“You've missed a bit.”

Albert dipped part of the fabric in Harry's wine glass and leaned forward to remove the remaining traces and smudges Harry had made. He was careful to not get alcohol in the cut. Harry tilted his head to accommodate him and Albert resisted the urge to trace his own fingers over his skin. To feel his pulse beating beneath his touch. 

He threw the handkerchief at Harry and sat back, sipping his wine to avoid Harry's eye contact as he murmured his thanks. Their food arrived (just the distraction he needed) and Harry looked more himself in its presence. He gazed at his plate, wide-eyed and inhaled the aroma. 

“I imagine I couldn't go far wrong choosing for you but steak seemed the safest bet.”

Harry groaned around what he had already shoved in his mouth. Albert did laugh then, short and dry but genuine. Harry's mouth went slightly lopsided but most of his smile was in his eyes. He looked much better for it. 

“I hoped you'd be able to appreciate fine food and your palette hadn't been paralysed by the vast quantities of sugar you consume.”

“Hey,” Harry responded after he'd savoured what he'd eaten. “I think you'll find the staff at the Wagon Wheel Bakery have a prize recipe.”

“I'm sure. Everything in your town runs the risk of making my heart seize up just looking at it or is on the other end of the scale: completely _bland_.”

“Maybe your _palette_ is just too sensitive to appreciate it.” Albert snorted and Harry frowned at Albert’s plate. “Albert you’re… going to eat nicely wrapped leaves? You can’t sit opposite me with _that_ and judge _my_ tastes.”

“Lembas,” Albert stated entirely seriously but his joke fell flat as Harry only looked confused. Albert rescued him before he asked. “It's a risotto. They just go the extra mile with presentation. Do you know how difficult it is to get the correct consistency so it doesn't ooze out when you apply pressure to cut it?”

“Doesn't mean anything if it doesn't taste good,” Harry challenged. 

“Would I order it if it didn't? There's a complex combination of flavour and texture that could be overpowering if the very fine balance isn't attained.” He cut into it to prove his point. “Right from the top,” he lifted the leaf wrapping slightly with his knife, “if this was the wrong type of cabbage it would be far too pungent, flavour seeping into the rice, and if not cooked adequately it wouldn't hold everything together.”

“Are you a part-time food critic? I didn't know you liked food so much.”

“You didn't know because the offerings of your town don't warrant the examination.”

“That's unfair,” Harry grumbled. “Tell me about these complex flavours…”

If he knew Harry better he might joke if detailed descriptions of food were akin to foreplay for him. He didn't. Besides, it didn't feel right to joke about such intimacy. He would not make Harry feel foolish for whatever decision he was trying to reach. Albert began to eat. 

“The mascarpone acts as a binding agent but not as much to mask the other flavours. The delicate infusion of rosemary and garlic is still present throughout,” Harry looked like he was trying not to laugh at that, “the pine nuts and chestnuts provide a contrast to the soft, creamy texture and the squash retains an outer firmness.”

Harry made another neat incision to continue eating as Albert spoke. To Albert's pleasant surprise, Harry was savouring it, taking small, polite sections rather than shoving as much as he could into his face. Evidently the conversation would be put on hold while Harry's attention was so taken by his meal, but that was pleasant, almost refreshing, to not have someone awaiting his answers at every moment. 

Harry grimaced slightly when he drank. Of course he was never going to have a taste for wine, but before Albert could suggest getting something else, Harry knocked it back to keep up appearances. The action only served to do the opposite. Harry lacked the finesse for it. Once he’d drained two glasses, in what Albert thought was concerningly quick succession, Harry began to relax.

“It’s real tender and…” he gestured with his fork as he tried to summon his vocabulary, “tangy.”

“Quite the restaurant critic yourself. Maybe you should note that down so you don't forget your unique phrasing.”

“I can give you specifics if you want.” He took another bite and his expression became thoughtful as he chewed. “For starters it's perfectly medium-rare, so tender it melts. The marinade… soy sauce… garlic… lemon. Among other things. A smart enough palette for you?”

Harry refilled his glass often and topped Albert's up whenever he did so to try an disguise the regularity of it. The next time Harry attempted to, Albert held his hand up. 

“Sheriff Truman, are you trying to get me drunk?”

“No, no!” Harry flustered, face reddening, showing Albert that Harry understood the unspoken accusation and perhaps it explained the reason for his visit. 

Despite that, Harry's answer had been honest - he would never take advantage of anyone in such a way. Albert knew this but it had provided an opportunity to acknowledge what was happening, or trying to happen, here. 

“Thank you Albert…” he murmured when their plates were removed. “How much-”

“We're not done yet Harry. We wouldn't leave without what you really want.”

“Uh…” Harry stared at him, flush returning to his cheeks. Perhaps Albert should have phrased it differently but he wasn't aware Harry was _quite_ so… smitten (to put it delicately). 

He hadn't shown any evidence of attraction before. Albert would put it down to the wine but… Harry had arrived entirely sober hadn't he? He had sought Albert out, got on a plane to find him. That was serious. 

“ _Oh_...” Harry said, probably louder than intended, as the dessert arrived. He was twice as obvious with alcohol in his system. Harry fixed his gaze on the neat arrangement before him. 

Albert had taken the liberty of ordering it at the same time as their mains. 

“Coffee panna cotta. A test to see how sophisticated your palette really is. The contrasting textures of the granita, brûlée and ice cream is quite something.”

“And the foam,” Harry gestured to the top. “Just like coffee, huh?”

“Except Twin Peaks doesn't seem to reach the lofty heights of milk and foam in the coffee.”

Harry probably tried to savour it but the portion size was undoubtedly smaller than he was used to. He couldn't hide his slight disappointment when he had finished. Albert had anticipated that. He slid his own plate across the table. 

“Albert, that's… that's yours…”

“Do you honestly think I'm a dessert person? That I'm really going to eat a chocolate marquise?”

It was a neat, circular shape, rolled in grated dark chocolate with flecks of white, served with a golden apricot sauce to contrast the deep brown and sweeten the richness. There was no way Harry would be able to eat it slowly. He tried, taking a small section at first but then he'd consumed the rest in two halves. He sat back and sighed. Albert laughed and Harry smiled at him. 

Albert took the bill and paid it before Harry could intervene. Harry shuffled after him as Albert left and he sighed in relief when they stepped outside. 

“It was real nice Albert…”

“But not a comfortable environment?”

Harry looked a little sheepish that Albert could read him so easily. 

“Doesn't mean I didn't enjoy it.”

They began the journey back to Albert's car. Albert heard Harry trip up on the pavement (or perhaps his own feet) a few times. Albert had to pull him back when he almost got hit crossing the road. 

“Fuck! I can't believe I have to tell _you_ basic road safety. _Look both ways_.”

“That was a red light!”

“Doesn't mean you shouldn't look.”

“But-”

The road was clear so Albert held his arm (just in case) as they crossed. When they reached Albert's car he opened the passenger door for Harry because he was beginning to doubt his abilities while intoxicated. 

“Such a _gentleman_...” Harry murmured as he sat down. “Who kn-” 

Albert slammed the door shut and got in the car. 

“Do your seatbelt Harry. I'm not doing that for you.”

He did anyway. It was infuriating watching Harry miss the slot, metal clunking against plastic. 

“Where’re we goin’?”

“My apartment, where did you think?”

“O-oh.”

“Or are you telling me you have a flight to catch?”

“No! I wanna go. Take me back to your place- uh, I mean- I mean-”

“Let's go.”

\-----

There was an almost tangible awkwardness in the atmosphere when Albert’s front door closed behind them. Albert turned to Harry. 

“You can-”

Harry had him in a sudden and firm embrace - Albert's chest pressed against his own, his face against Albert's neck. Albert's heart thudded in his ears and he felt a little more drunk than he ought to but perhaps that was because he could smell the wine on Harry. Albert’s hands reflexively grabbed hold of Harry's shoulders but he didn't move any further. 

Then Harry started to kiss him. Tentatively at his neck until Albert didn't stop him and he progressed up, kissing the side of his face, one hand releasing him to rest at the back of his head. 

“Harry.” It came out more breathy than he intended. Harry made a small noise and held him tighter. “Harry, you’ve got to think about this when you're sober. You can't run away from your problems, especially not here. You don't belong here.” That sounded harsher than he had intended. “It will only make you feel worse,” he corrected. “You have a _home_.”

A home away from the bustle of city life. Grass stains and birdsong, clean air and a clear night sky - an environment he was born to inhabit. 

“I know…” Harry murmured against him. “But I can escape… just for now. Just here. I like it here. In here… With you. I like you… Being with you. You understand. You know. Like know one else could. Will you let me?” Harry held him tighter. “Run away? Just for now. Please.”

Christ. Albert _did_ understand but it was overwhelming. A possibility he had never considered. He couldn't even recall how many months it had been since they had seen each other last. It didn't seem to matter. Somehow it only mattered that they were together now. 

Albert was _tired_. It felt like he spent most of his life on autopilot and he would crash out when he had an opportunity to stop. He could feel himself slipping, letting go, leaning into Harry's stability. He wondered if he would ever wake if he fell asleep with Harry like this. Perhaps they could escape together into pleasant dreams. 

“You can't sleep on your feet,” Albert muttered. “Go to bed.”

Harry loosened his hold then and Albert reluctantly pushed back. He saw Harry's face. He looked so _vulnerable_. Albert sighed and turned him around to guide him into the bedroom. He felt Harry's body relax under his hands when he saw the bed. He almost tripped kicking off his boots. Only one would come off and Albert had to help him untie the laces on the other. Harry petted his hair with a clumsy hand as he did so. Once freed of his footwear, Harry shrugged the jacket from his shoulders, left it in a heap on the floor and fell on the bed. He grunted as he rolled into a comfortable position. 

He looked as if he would fall straight to sleep. Albert wondered if he should think better of it - leave Harry sleeping and take the couch - but when he sat on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes, Harry's arm snaked around his waist. Albert found that he couldn't refuse it. He laid down beside him on top of the covers and Harry wrapped him in his embrace. Albert sighed into it. Was it tragic if this was the nicest thing he had experienced in a long time? It didn't matter, he couldn't even bring himself to consider the consequences beyond this point. He couldn't think about much at all as the feeling of Harry's safety and security lulled him into sleep. 

Harry was so solid, so grounded, so _real_. Ever-present in his own small patch of forest, like the mountains that overlooked it. He would never leave. 

\-----

Albert awoke to an empty space beside him - still warm. He sighed. Neither of them needed this. The added angst and drama. He wouldn't chase after him. It was Harry's decision to leave. Albert had been right - Harry didn't belong here. They could chalk it all up to a drunken mistake. It was still reassuring that he knew exactly where he would go, where he would always be. 

There was clattering in the kitchen and Albert sat up. He crept out of the bedroom and peered around the doorframe. Harry seemed to sense him and looked up, a whole slice of toast in his mouth. 

“Mm!” He greeted, biting into the bread and freeing his mouth. “Mornin’.”

Harry looked refreshed in a way that was to do with more than just getting the adequate amount of shut-eye. Albert felt it too. He hadn't thought about much else other than Harry since the restaurant and Harry was a fine thing to occupy his mind. 

“I uh, made you coffee. I think you can agree that's one thing Twin Peaks can do to your satisfaction.”

Albert sat at the kitchen counter. Harry did not. He sipped his own drink.

“... Was I meant to have left?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Albert said immediately and found himself standing. Harry blinked at him in surprise at his outburst.

“You just seemed surprised to see me…”

“Let me fucking finish,” Albert snapped, his hands on Harry's lapels - an unconscious action that made the truth he was avoiding stark and obvious. He didn't want Harry run. He wanted _him_. “It requires consideration,” he concluded, feeble to his own ears. 

Harry blinked at him again in that dumbfounded way of his. Neither of them spoke. Albert hadn't let go of him. 

“And… d’you wanna consider it right now?”

“No one-night stands,” Albert said bluntly. Harry looked mildly horrified that he would consider such a possibility and shook his head. “You are aware of the complications? You work, I work and I travel for it-”

“But I can visit you? We can… try?”

Harry dared to hope, his gaze filled with all of the emotions that swirled in Albert's gut. Albert would not break his trust. He kissed him, slow but chaste. Harry went very still but when Albert pulled back he leaned forward to return the gesture, holding him close just like before. That feeling was reason enough to try. Harry flashed him an endearingly shy smile when they parted and Albert kissed him again. 

“There's nothing to stop you picking up the phone if I can't see you though.”

“But I don't have your number,” Harry said, concerned. 

“Well that's easily corrected.” Albert idly ran his fingers over the lapel. They could do more than try. Much more. 

**Author's Note:**

> (hopefully it's not too similar to French Food...)


End file.
